Page 158 of Torn

“Do you want to go for a walk on the beach?” he asked me one night after dinner.

“Sure,” I replied a bit nervously. It was dusk, and somehow being in the sun felt safer and less intimate than being anywhere near any degree of the darkness of nighttime.

As we walked, he held my hand, and it felt nice, but his hands were very soft. Almost too soft.

I felt nothing. No sparks. No butterflies.

At some point, he stopped walking and turned to me. “I really like you, Kenzi,” he said quietly, and then leaned in to kiss me. At the last minute, I turned and his lips landed on my cheek.

I didn’t mean to be rude, but I didn’t want any other man kissing me. I awkwardly apologized. But it was enough to disappointhim and make him check out the next day. I found the small canvas with his name written on it in the trash can in his room.

It all just solidified the fact that I didn’t want anyone else. Ever. No matter how nice or cute or smart they were. None of it mattered.

My heart belonged to Tor.

While in Maine, I learned there are so many degrees of silence. It can be comforting. It can be deafening. It can be foreboding. It can be empty. It can be the space between two sounds.

Or between two people.

Tor and my father haven’t spoken at all, and that worries me. I was hoping they would hash the situation out by now. Verbally and not physically. I want them to repair their friendship. Ineedmy father to forgive Tor so we can all move forward with a new slate.

I don’t want to think about where it’s going to leave the three of us if he doesn’t. Our lives are so intertwined. I can’t see a future with us untangled from each other.

For my nineteenth birthday, a small box came, and I recognized the writing on the address label immediately.

I took it to my room to open it alone, and Aunt Katherine smiled knowingly as I left her after dinner to go spend time with this box. I haven’t received a letter from Tor in a month, and with each day that passed, I grew more and more nervous that he had finally just given up or that my father had said or done something to push him further away.

I open the box slowly, and inside is an old bottle, with a rolled-up piece of paper inside. A small gasp of happiness escapes me, remembering our conversation that day on the beach about messages in a bottle.

Pulling the cork out, I tip the bottle over and the paper falls out, along with a single penny. The note is tied with thin red twine that I slide off, and I gently unroll the parchment paper.

Tears spring to my eyes when I see he has also written with a fountain pen.

Tor… you do everything so right.

Taking a breath, I read his words:

My love,

Walk in the rain with me. Kiss me in the misty fog.

Let me hold you all night under the hush of the wind.

I’m waiting for you. Throwing pennies… making wishes.

I’m wishing only for you. Always for you.

Come back to me.

I’ll fight for you. I’ll fight for us.

Wish for me, too… and I’ll make it come true.

I love you forever and longer.

~ Tor

P.S. My huge bottle had $6,025 in it and this single penny. Make a wish. Or several. :-)